Dalquist. If anything happens either to the boy or to Crohn, Thorn'll just say it was all Crohn's fault, and who could gainsay him? He got away with a similar excuse when Erek broke out and killed Senior Magemaster Urel.
Oh, well, I guess there's not going to be a better time than this to act…
'Thorn is a traitor to the House and to the Guild,” Dalquist said, the words tumbling from his mouth like a shower of lead shot. “His mother placed Loras Afelnor under some sort of Geomantic Geas, forcing him to attempt the murder of the old Prelate, so that Thorn could take his place. She wanted Loras as her consort, but he rebuffed her. Now, she wants Questor Grimm, and she wants Thorn to become Dominie at all costs!'
Crohn shook his head. “Lord Thorn is an ambitious man,” he said, “but I cannot see him agreeing to such a deed. Now, I do not know what rumours you may have heard-'
'I saw the proof with my own eyes, Magemaster Crohn!” Dalquist cried.
''Horin is expendable; you will be his replacement.’ I was present when Thorn's mother said those very words!'
There; it's said, he thought. There's no going back now.
Crohn's eyes, now stern with disbelief, stared into his own. Dalquist felt no compulsion to look away; no Secular or ordinary mage could ever stare down a Questor.
'You really believe it!'
'I don't have to believe, Magemaster; I know. Kargan was with me; he had cast some potent Mentalist spell on us both. He can back me up.'
Crohn rose to his feet with some difficulty and began to wander around the Library, his staff thumping on the wooden floor in a rhythmic manner.
He stopped pacing and spun around. “Your proof?” he demanded, as if addressing a humble Student.
'I don't have any tangible evidence, Magemaster Crohn,” Dalquist admitted. “I saw and heard the whole thing, as did Magemaster Kargan, but it'd be our word against Thorn's. The reason I'm up here tonight is to try to find something positive in Guild records, something we can use.'
'I knew Loras Afelnor,” Crohn said, his eyes now sharp, his voice challenging. “I must admit I always found the whole affair strange, but he acknowledged his own guilt in front of the whole Conclave, or so I hear. Lord Thorn, so I understand, persuaded the other members to forgo the death sentence for his friend. Defend your position!'
As yet, the Senior Magemaster had stopped short of branding him a liar, but Dalquist saw doubt and reason fighting for supremacy in Crohn's face. The old man had reverted to his schoolroom persona, and, Dalquist had to admit, it was an effective technique; the old man was making him think.
'Perhaps Thorn was worried that the members of the Conclave would see the spell rising from Loras’ dead body,” he hazarded. “Perhaps he felt guilt for his treachery.'
'Supposition is neither evidence nor proof, Questor Dalquist.'
'I know what I saw and heard,” the younger mage said. “I was not present when the offence occurred, but what I say is true!'
'A poor argument,” the Senior Magemaster said, shaking his head. “Where, may I ask, can you adduce any proof of your assertions?'
'I've consulted the Deeds of the Questors, Prelate Geral's own journals, and the Annals of Arnor House,” Dalquist said. “Loras’ name has been erased from all of them.'
'Of course: this is standard practice in the case of traitors, and no proof of foul play at all. Do you have anything better?'
Dalquist rose from his chair. “That's why I'm here, Senior Magemaster,” he said. “I don't know where to look.
'However, I can see you don't believe me. Just report me to Prelate Thorn and be done with it, if you think me a liar!'
'I did not call you a liar, Questor Dalquist.” Crohn's voice was as smooth as the finest silk. “In fact, I believe you; I must. My Mage Sight tells me that you regard your words as the truth. The only alternatives are that you are insane, or that you are deliberately deceiving me with some subtle spell. I see no sign of the first, and I believe I caught you off your guard. That should preclude the second.'
'Magemaster Crohn; that is a gross breach of protocol!” the Questor protested. “You used your Sight on me?'
'You made an extraordinary claim.” Crohn's face bore just the hint of a smile. “I felt it required extraordinary proof. Surely you did not expect me to accept your story otherwise?'
Dalquist felt a little shocked at the prim, proper mage's actions, but he had to acknowledge Crohn's reasoning. The old man could hardly have gone to Thorn's office and called him to task on such shaky reasoning.
'Of course, we cannot use the same technique on Lord Thorn,” Crohn said. “We need something a little stronger than hearsay before we could ever persuade a Conclave to use Mage Sight on the Prelate.'
'I know that! That's the whole…'
Dalquist's ears might have lagged behind his mouth, but they caught up now.
'Magemaster Crohn; did you just use the pronoun ‘we'?'
Crohn nodded. “I have felt for some time that the Lord Prelate's activities have gone far beyond the bounds of the needs and requirements of the Guild. I found your story shocking, but not altogether incredible.
'However, I am sure you realise that the dangers of an unproved claim against a Prelate are considerable. Mage Sight is a powerful tool, but it is far from infallible, especially when one is dealing with mages of a senior rank. I believe you because I find your tale plausible. However, Prelate Thorn could argue that you, as a Seventh Level Questor, might be clouding or perverting your true aura.'
Dalquist looked into Crohn's red-rimmed eyes and saw no trace of deception in them. However, he knew he was taking a great risk by trusting the old mage tutor too much.
'May I scan your aura, Magemaster Crohn?” he asked.
Crohn nodded. “Of course, Questor Dalquist. I appreciate your courtesy in asking me.'
Dalquist unfocused his eyes in that special way, and scanned the old man's halo of colours for any sign of deception.
'Clean, I presume?'
Dalquist nodded.
'However, I advise you to keep watching, Questor Dalquist.'
As the Questor held on to his Sight, he saw green tendrils of despair, red threads of anger and yellow wisps of jealousy waft through Crohn's aura. In the space of a few moments, the entire panoply of human emotion cycled through the old mage's psychic field, each one flickering for a few moments before being replaced by another. Dalquist's eyes grew large with astonishment.
'What in the…?'
'I have taught Students how to interpret auras for most of my life, Questor Dalquist. I have studied the phenomenon in great depth, and you will find that most Magemasters who teach the subject have done the same. I am capable of projecting any state of mind I wish. It is not an uncommon skill, but it is not something we teach to our Students, of course. It is a spell like any other of the Divinatory class; it can, therefore, also be used in a Projective or Resident manner. You see, therefore, that no inquisition based on Sight alone can be considered conclusive; not in a teaching House, at least.'
Dalquist's mouth moved, but no sound emerged. He had been taught from an early age that the Sight was an infallible method of determining guilt or innocence, and Crohn's words had pulled this firm plank of faith from beneath him. He felt cold horror at the thought that he had exposed himself to a man whose aura he could not trust.
'Rest easy, Questor Dalquist,” the old man said. “I have no intention of betraying you. I know my scant words are a poor substitute for true Sight, but, then, I am sure you realise that I had no reason to tell you of this little wrinkle in the craft, had I intended subterfuge.'
Dalquist nodded slowly. What the Magemaster said made sense.
'But how, then,” the Questor said, as a thought took hold of him, “is the truth of any matter to be found?'
'There are far more potent spells than mere Sight,” Crohn said. “However, they are all Great Spells, requiring the services of many powerful mages. We could never persuade the Presidium to cast such a Great Spell on a House Prelate without proof; solid, undeniable evidence. I am a member of the House Presidium, and you may
